Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Nor do I intend to offend anyone with this work of fiction.
"I will not leave. You cannot make me anymore!" her tone was harsh, firm, and not like anything he had heard come from her mouth for a very long time.
He tried to reason with her; after all, he had raised her to be sensible. "Please, think about it. This is no place for a girl such as yourself to be."
"This isn't a place for anybody to be! Arthur," he flinched. It was her brother that called him Arthur. She would always call him Dad, Father, even Pops occasionally, but never Arthur. "We're in the middle of a goddamned war! None of those boys should be in the trenches fighting for their lives!" her voice was rising. She never yelled-ever-and it was unsettling. "But here we are, sitting in puddles, sleeping in mud and marching in blood."
"But you should be at home, doing what you can from there…"
Her voice was firm, "The mind and hearts of my people are here; don't think I won't be too. I have every right to be here as you or Al. Hell, probably more than Al, he just got here and has no idea what it's like out there, while I've been here for the past two years." That was right; she had snuck into her own army.
"Now, listen… I really don't think you know quite how harsh it really is out there. Women aren't built form this kind of thing, poppet."
"Don't 'poppet' me. I do know what it's like out there. And I've lasted out there longer than most men do, though during that I was a 'boy'. But it's not like we take regular bathes out here when they could figure out some obvious features and the only reason I'm talking about this with you is that some people in this camp don't know how to knock…" she ran her hand through her hair, usually a light golden colour, was now almost brown from the amount of filth and ash that had gathered in it from excessive days of not washing it. "Anyway, my men need me out there. And if you think you can send me away and I'll stay, let me remind you that I have already snuck into my own military once. It won't be too difficult to do it again."
He was struggling with this. She was never the rebellious one. He needed to calm her down and reassure her that the troops would be fine without her. "Please, Mattea, listen to reason. War is no place for a girl. Now that Alfred and his troops are here, your men won't have to go on as many key missions and I'm sure that Al can handle your men if you aren't there…"
Something wasn't right. Well, something was even less right than it was when she was yelling at him. She had frozen, eyes wide in shock, lips twitching, searching for words. She looked down and, words dripping with the weight of the hurt and sadness of being invisible and overlooked for her older twin for centuries, whispered, almost too quiet to hear, "He always was your favorite."
That was a low blow. The falsity of her statement made Arthur want to jump up and correct her. She had no idea what she was talking about. She was faster at recovering though, and almost as soon as the words had left her mouth her head snapped up and she glared at him with the eyes of a stranger.
They were cold and hard, filled with an anger that didn't suit her soft features. As she stared at him with these new eyes she said, clear, louder than her normal tone, and full of contempt, "England, go to hell."
She turned and walked briskly from the tent as Arthur stared after her.
. . . . . .
Arthur sat in a chair, head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees. "Shit," he said softly.
"Shit what?" a voice penetrated the silence. Arthur didn't need to look up to know that it belonged to Alfred. "It's unlike you to swear like that…now." He could hear the thinly veiled smile in the last word.
"Alfred, honestly, not now." He snapped as he ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head when it reached the back.
"Now, now, Arthur, what's got your panties in a bunch?" the American was still mocking him. Not that it was unusual.
"I seem to have gone off and done something rather stupid." He deadpanned. No need to make it more painful than it already was. "Spoken to Mattea recently? She'll have a better story than me."
"Haven't gotten a letter from her, soooo no. Why?"
Arthur stared at his former colony. He couldn't be serious. Would Mattea really not tell Alfred or contact him in anyway? "Why would she need to send you a letter?"
Alfred's eyes narrowed "You asked if we had spoken…."
"Spoken, not written to each other."
"Then by recently you mean almost three years ago?" Alfred's brow furrowed as he pulled a chair up in front of the Brit.
"You really don't know…my, she is keeping a low profile. Though the missions she's been on…" He said more to himself than to the man now sitting in front of him.
Alfred's tone became serious, "Don't know what Arthur? What are you talking about?"
"Mattea is here, Alfred, fighting alongside her troops. At first as a male soldier but I believe they now know her true identity." His voice was smooth, trying to sound nonchalant.
The American stared at him with wide eyes that slowly hardened. Hands gripping the armrests of his chair so hard the knuckles turned white, he said, through gritted teeth, "You brought her here? You're making her fight? What the hell is wrong with you?! She isn't ready for this!" Arthur could tell that Alfred was trying his hardest not to yell and/or punch him.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn't help but snap back though "What do you think? Why would I bring her to this hellhole?" He gestured nowhere in particular and took a breath and kept going. "As soon as I found out she was here I tried to send her home, convince her that it was no place for her. She wouldn't budge." He smiled slightly, "Just as stubborn as you, when she wants to be, that one." He sniffed. "Anyway, during our discussion she got rather…worked up…and well, I may have said some things that were true but entirely insensitive to her… and those may have offended her greatly. I regret it, but she doesn't seem to want to forgive or forget it and insists on calling me 'England', 'Arthur', and even 'commander Kirkland'."
"She does that, doesn't she? Use words to rub it in, I mean." Alfred added.
"Yes. I've never seen her this aggravated though. Usually she'll apologize within a few hours. This has gone on for weeks."
"Weeks?"
"Yes, weeks."
The American sighed and leaned back in the chair. "This is war time Mattie."
"But as I hear, Canada and England are getting along quite fine."
"Yes, our countries are, but we aren't. And I've seen wartime Mattea before, and this is totally different."
"Oh, well, this is more. She's in all-out 'don't-mess-with-me-my-friends-or-my-family-or-else' mode. The 'or else' factor should not be taken lightly, especially for personal matters. So, first off," he began to tick things off on his fingers, "this is war, so she's already really fierce. Second, if I heard you correctly, she snuck into her own army? That sounds pretty intense. And thirdly," looked pointedly at Arthur, "she probably expects you to not say offensive things to her. Especially considering you are allies, and she's had your back for quite some time."
"You're lucky though, given the situation. She's your ally. You aren't fighting her and her troops, just happened to offend her. Believe me, you don't want to tick her off and then be at war with her, I speak from experience. She's …" his eyes widened and he shivered, remembering something unpleasant, "scary, when she's angry, and wants to hurt you."
Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow.
"War of 1812, Iggy. While you were busy losing navy battles, she was busy mostly kicking ass. My ass, more specifically." It was America's turn to raise an eyebrow at England's expression. He chuckled as he spoke, "you think manifest destiny just… died after that? That I didn't try to invade again because we were buds? Oh, no. There were quite a few of my people that still wanted Canada, but I just couldn't handle it again. That girl is a monster when she's pissed off…"he looked up and smiled "Though we're good now."
Arthur was silent for a few moments as he mulled this information over. He was about to ask Alfred just what Mattea-sweet, quiet, polite, and kind Mattea- did to make him rethink his "conquer all of North America" ideal when the other nation spoke again.
"What exactly did you say to her? It takes a lot to send her off like that, especially when you're just using words. She's a tough girl to break."
He sighed. Arthur had avoided saying exactly what he had said to Mattea to avoid the shame. He took a deep breath before beginning. "When she refused to leave, I told her that it was no place for a girl and that since you were here now, Alfred, her troops wouldn't need to take on as many key missions, and the ones they did go on, you could supervise. That is when she ended the conversation with 'he-'"Arthur stopped himself. He didn't need to say that part. " -with a swift 'go to hell, England.' And stomped out of the tent."
America was obviously mulling over what he had just been told, hand rubbing his chin as he squinted at the floor. "But, that's all true. I'll totally be the hero and take over her army. I don't see why she's going on like how she is…"
The Brit rubbed his forehead. Alfred didn't understand and he was going to have to explain just what he had said meant.
"No, now…imagine you're Mattea." He said standing up and beginning to pace around the small tent. "You represent Canada. You are female and currently, in your country, women are fighting for the vote. You have pretended to be a male solider for just about two years." The American had shut his eyes and was nodding. Alright then. "You have fought in some key battles for the Allies and worked your way quickly up the ranks. Now I come along. I tell you that this place is…unsuitable for you."
"Bullshit. Been here long enough to know what's going on. I can handle this. Girls are tough." He mumbled under his breath.
"Yes, well, now I'm saying that your military doesn't need to take key offensive missions now that America, your brother, is here."
Alfred stiffened. He seemed to be in some kind of trance. "Not fair. They took Vimy…"
"And the important missions they do go on, you don't have to supervise. Alfred can do that."
"My…army…" Alfred whispered.
"Now do you understand?" Alfred immediately opened his eyes and looked at the elder Nation. "In less than five minutes, I not only managed to insult your gender and country, but also your army and your ability to do your duties as a nation!"
Arthur slumped back into this chair and put his head in his hands. "If I had said those things to you, you would've punched e in the mouth. All she did was say you were my favorite. Hurt more though."
"What-" at that moment they heard movement and voices outside the tent. Straining to hear, both Nations leaned towards the opening.
The people outside seemed to be speaking in very fast French. One seemed to be trying to apologize, while the other was cooling down.
"What are they saying?" Alfred asked. Arthur just shook his head. Both voices spoke too fast and slurred so that, with his crude understanding of the language after fighting with Francis for so long, couldn't make out what they were saying.
The voices seemed to come to an agreement and slowed enough for him to make out what they were saying.
A voice quietly chuckled. "Ah, merci. Vous voyez ... mon frère est un idiot. Je devrais lui parler sous peu de temps et assurez-vous qu'il sait." America looked at his former colonizer, who put a finger to his lips.
"Très bien. S'il vous plaît assurez-vous qu'il ne se reproduise pas. Bonne nuit, madame."
"Bonne nuit." The voice opened the flap and walked into the tent, her smile slowly melting as she saw who was sitting in it.
Translations: "Thank you. You see ... my brother is an idiot. I will be speaking to him shortly and make sure he knows."
"All right. Please make sure it does not happen again. Good night."
"Good night, sir."
I appologize for the hodge podge of my French and google translate. My French is a bit rusty. And the English quotation marks.
A/N: This was a little head cannon of mine. I started it at around a week ago while high on ricola and sleepytime tea. I originally was going to make it a one-shot, but my friend convinced me to post it earlier with multiple chapters. so here it is. I'm not sure how long it's going to be...
a side note, Mattea is the female version of Matthew. in case you were wondering.
History time!
I'll try to be quick, this isn't the main war. The war of 1812 (1812-1815)was a war that was (technically) between England and America. American's wanted to control Upper and Lower Canada and the land west of them in what is called "Manifest Destiny". battles were fought on both land and sea. The ones people always mention (myself included) are the invasion of York, an American offensive where they burned it down, and when the British burned Washington in retaliation to York. This is why Alfred says Matt is"scary". And although the war of 1812 is officially seen as a war between Britain and the U.S., it was "the war for Canada", Canadians see it as a major victory for themselves. If the American invasion had been successful, there would be no Canada. that would kinda suck.
It was a war for territory, and, as my grade 7 social teacher said "we won that war. Doesn't matter that we gave it all back, we're nice, we had more territory in the end." At the treaty of Ghent both sides gave back what territory they had claimed (Canada or Britian had claimed more) and a border for North America west of the great lakes was decided upon: the 49th parallel. Want more? the Canadian government set up a nice website to honour the 100th anniversary: www. .ca
Women had fought for the vote since the 1800's. It wasn't until the first world war rolled along that it got hard to ignore them. they took on jobs that men usually were pretty badass if you ask me. Google "the famous five" and you can learn all about how hardcore those gals were, fighting for the vote and to be persons and to be able to be in polotics. They were Canadian.
I like to imagine women walking into the voting both (or whatever they had back then) for the first time, wearing their work clothes, stained in oil, hair tied back, snapping their fingers at an old white guy shaking his head at them, saying "Bitch, no. We gunna vote." and walking past him.
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If I need to add, remove, or fix, anything, just let me know! I will be happy to do so. And remember to review!
